


A Very Ughty Mistake

by fictionalheart



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalheart/pseuds/fictionalheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ughter Pendragon is confused by his son's spending habits. Pure, unadulterated, post 1x12 crack-fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Ughty Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [to_the_library](https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_the_library/gifts).



> Pure, un-betaed, crack fic that disregards Uther's admission that he made a mistake at the end of 1x12. This is the result of weeks of calling Uther "Ughter" and a series of texts I woke up to this morning that have had me laughing all day. I had to take the "Booze and bets and babes" and run with it.

Ughter Pendragon wasn’t a very conceited man. He liked to believe he listened to his subjects and always did what was best for them.

Of course, he rarely did what they requested, but that was because he knew better. After all, he was older, wiser, and had the experience of many years of divine leadership behind him.

So when they practiced magic and he executed them or he raised their taxes and they found it difficult to feed their children and keep their families warm through the winter, he was showing them what it was to be just and helping them to face a tougher world. 

He prided himself on these leadership skills, and every morning, when his reflection stared back at him with a smile and his manservant patted him on the shoulder, just as he’d been commanded to do, his heart filled with joy and he found himself ready to face the day. 

So it was that on the morning after he had his men execute the town blacksmith, Ughter Pendragon found himself to be very confused indeed. 

His ward had spoken up against him and he’d been forced to lock her up in the dungeons, even as his heart trembled at the thought of his secret offspring rejecting his ways. Sighing, he’d thrown himself onto the throne and was staring at the portrait he’d had painted on the ceiling of his younger self, wondering what had gone wrong in silly Morgana’s soul, when his financial advisor entered the room and reported that his only son and heir had just spent an alarming amount of money. 

Finding it in himself to emit an even deeper sigh, he ordered the man to summon his son. 

“Sire?” 

Ughter looked up to find the boy in front of him. He took in his blond hair and puffy, angry eyes and frowned at how much more he looked like his mother than like himself. Shaking his head at the injustice of the world, he motioned towards the advisor to read out the sums he’d no doubt carelessly spent. 

“How do you explain this, Arthur?”

Arthur looked uneasily at his boots, no doubt as appalled by their shineless state as he was. Ughter would have to give him a talk about that later on, as well. His own boots were never without their shine.

“I went to the pub, Father. I thought the execution of the traitor was cause for celebration.” 

“So you spent all of that money on booze?”

“Booze, bets, and babes, Sire.” 

“Ah.” Ughter nodded to himself, his chest puffing out as the fears that Arthur had done something noble with the money left him. “I can’t claim not to understand. I, too, was young and foolish once, though I’m sure that’s hard for you to believe.” Ughter stood to pat his son consolingly on the back. “You’ll need to keep such behaviour private next time, though, son. The crown prince can’t be seen traipsing about with local girls in the pub. You’ll have them sent to you in your chambers in the future.”

Ughter frowned as Arthur’s cheeks flared up.

“Yes, Father. Never again.” 

“Good.” Ughter gestured at his manservant to bring them a pitcher of wine. “Now tell me, were they pretty girls?” 

“Ummm.”

Ughter leaned back in his chair, legs thrown over the armrest and goblet of wine clutched in his hands, ready to listen to his son’s rakish antics, never once suspecting that the money had gone to purchase the deeds of the blacksmith’s house and thereby secure the future of his ward’s maidservant. He was happy to be obliviously secure in the knowledge that everyone around him loved him as much as he loved himself.


End file.
